


breathless

by HalfFizzbin



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Embarrassment, Failwolf Friday, First Time, Fluff, Frottage, Hiccups, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-26
Updated: 2013-01-26
Packaged: 2017-11-26 23:02:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/655340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HalfFizzbin/pseuds/HalfFizzbin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek tries to act sexy. It doesn't go the way he expects.</p>
            </blockquote>





	breathless

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Потерявший дыхание](https://archiveofourown.org/works/861831) by [CranberryBoo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CranberryBoo/pseuds/CranberryBoo)



> You'll notice I'm incapable of writing fail!porn because _bad sex scares me_. This is the best I can do \o/

“Mmmm, _Derek,”_ Stiles murmurs, and then bites down on his tongue because _god, could he be any less cool right now?_

“Don’t, don’t do that,” Derek says sternly, leaning up from where he’s been working his teeth down the underside of Stiles’ arm—and _fucking seriously,_ why should that feel so good, it makes no _sense._

“I’m sorry, I can’t— _jeez,_ oh, that’s… _stop that,_ then, if you want me to be quiet!”

“I _don’t_ want you to be quiet,” Derek says, rolling his eyes at Stiles’ nipple before pulling it back into his mouth. “What possible reason would you have to think—”

“Shut the fuck up, I’m— _ohgod—_ I’m _nervous_.” Stiles arches, pushing himself blindly against Derek’s mouth and reaching behind his head to grab at the edges of the mattress. “I’m afraid to even _touch_ you, to be completely honest, because that’s always the part in the dream where I wake up clutching a pillow and then grumpily jerk off—”

_“Grumpily?”_ Derek stops nipping at him and looks up, smiling in that increasingly-familiar wide-open way that means he wants to laugh. “I would’ve liked to see that.”  

“I _bet_ you would, you fucking pervert,” Stiles grumbles, and Derek just nuzzles into Stiles’ chest and _laughs_ (which not only feels awesome, but is also kind of horrifyingly adorable). 

“How does it go,” Derek says, rolling his whole face in a rough, wolfy nuzzle down the middle of Stiles’ stomach—which Stiles totally does not find unbearably sexy, nope. 

“Ummmmff,” Stiles sighs, and then scoffs at himself. “I mean… how does _what_ go?” 

“The dream.” Derek licks at him, where sweat is starting to bead on his skin, and Stiles blushes hotly and hopes he doesn’t taste too offensive, _god_. “Before you wake up grumpy. What happens.”

“You, uh…” Derek’s looking up at him again, and his eyes are warm but they don’t look _mocking,_ or anything. “Are you serious? Why do you want to know?” 

“Do I finish getting your clothes off, before you wake up?” Derek asks, and he shifts down on the bed and hooks his fingers into Stiles’ boxers. _Oh._

“Yes, absolutely,” Stiles agrees, nodding eagerly while Derek helps him out of his underwear. “Clothes are long gone, in the dream. Yours too. _Especially_ yours.” 

“On it,” Derek says, but he’s just _looking_ at Stiles now, his eyes roving over his body and straying back to his dick like they’re magnetized to it. Stiles rolls his whole body in a slow stretch, just to see what will happen, and Derek licks his lips and whimpers. 

_Awesome._

“I’ve decided my performance anxiety has been pointless and unfounded,” Stiles breathes, kneeling up to wrestle Derek out of the rest of his clothes. “You _totally_ want a piece of this. Oh my god, you freak, why do you look _guilty_ right now?”

Derek shrugs contritely, kicking off his boxer-briefs. “It’s a reflex, I think. But uh. I do.” 

“Do _what,”_ Stiles needles, pulling him back down on top of him by the hips—and _oh god,_ Derek’s hips. Why does he even _wear_ clothes, seriously. 

“Want a piece.” Derek presses their foreheads together like he’s making a deep emotional confession, instead of being a _giant dork._ “A lot of pieces, actually. All the pieces.” 

“ _Oh my god_ why does that actually sound romantic to me? You’ve done actual damage to my brain, I’m sure of it.” Stiles grabs his hair and kisses him fervently, falling into it the way he always does and smiling when he feels Derek’s happy moan vibrating against his chest. “Wanna hear the rest of the dream? It’s pretty hot.” 

“Yes.” Derek lines up their bodies, pressing in with his hips, and Stiles throws his head back and loses track of English for a second. 

“ _Whoa,”_ he says, and he’s done being embarrassed about how full of wonder his voice is because this is the first time he’s rubbed up against another body, and it’s _Derek’s_ body, and he figures a little wonder is allowed. “Oh, _oh,_ okay. So this is pretty accurate so far. But you have your mouth on my… on my neck.” 

“Here?” Derek closes his lips over Stiles’ Adam’s apple, and then moves up in a soft, wet drag toward the underside of his jaw. 

“ _Ah,_ yeah, but no, the side, like—” Stiles tilts his head and wiggles his shoulder a little, trying to indicate the spot without taking his hands off Derek’s hips. “Yeah, that’s it.” 

“Then what.” Derek presses in with his teeth, not a _bite_ exactly but close enough to make Stiles’ breath catch.

“Then, _nnn,_ then you hold me down, like by the wrists? And you growl in my ear.”

“You are such a cliché,” Derek says, sounding pleased about it. He grabs Stiles’ hands from where they’re kneading Derek’s ass (Stiles makes a noise of loss about that, but hey, one fantasy at a time) and pins them on the mattress next to his head. Then he angles in, animalistic and predatory, and bites at Stiles’ earlobe before he—

Hiccups. Really, really loudly.

“Oh— _hic—_ god, sorry,” Derek sighs, dropping his head down onto the mattress with a tiny noise of embarrassment. His fingers tighten on Stiles’ wrists with the instinctive panic of a plan gone wrong, and it’s just too much for Stiles to take. He cracks up.

“Stop— _hic—_ stop it,” Derek grumps, burying his hiccuping face in the crook of Stiles neck. His whole body shakes with each hiccup, and Stiles can’t stop _laughing,_ and it’s all very hilarious and conflicting and he feels really _good,_ actually. 

“I told you not to eat that sandwich so fast,” Stiles scolds him gleefully, pulling his hands free so he can stroke down Derek’s back. “What would happen if you tried to howl, do you think? Would it come out all hiccupy and adorable?”

“I h— _hic—_ hate you,” Derek says—but he slips an arm under Stiles’ waist and kind of _hugs_ him, so he’s clearly lying. 

“I don’t really want to parse why this is actually working for me,” Stiles grins, tightening his own arms around Derek’s back as the next hiccup judders their bodies together. “But it’s kind of really, _oh,_ ridiculously cute.”

Derek shakes his head against Stiles’ shoulder. “Stop it. You don’t have to— _hic—_ pretend that I’m not— _hic—_ completely fucking this up for you.”

“Hold that thought,” Stiles says tightly, and then he thrusts into the groove of Derek’s hip about three more times and comes all over both of them. “ _Ohgodyeah,_ okay. How’re you doing, big guy?”

Derek pushes up on his elbows, staring down between their bodies like Stiles’ come on his abs is the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen, and Stiles smiles languidly and flips them over. 

“I’m gonna try and blow you, okay?” he says, sliding down the bed until he’s hovering over Derek’s still-hard cock, his hands braced against strong thighs that are twitching a bit with every hiccup. “It might be terrible, but hey! At least you can’t criticize me while your diaphragm is busy contracting.”

“It won’t be— _hic—_ you don’t have to— _hic—_ okay,” Derek says, melting back against the pillows in disgruntled surrender. 

“I like you a lot, you know,” Stiles says conversationally, before licking just under head of Derek’s dick with the tip of his tongue.

Derek reaches down and claws desperately at Stiles’ sheets. “ _Hic,”_ he says. 


End file.
